Night unfurled its veil over the Forbidden Forest. The stars were sparse, and the lights in the castle grew dimmer by the minute. Along the long corridors, only Filch patrolled slowly with an oil lamp.
By his side walked Mrs. Norris, who was moving with graceful steps.
Out of the corner of his eye, Filch thought he caught a shadow flickering past. He looked up and saw a small bird flying over the castle.
It was a peregrine falcon.
Mrs. Norris leapt onto the windowsill and tilted her head to gaze at it. Her tail swayed gently.
Filch watched for a moment before losing interest. He lowered his gaze and spoke to his pet, "Keep your ears sharp, Mrs. Norris. On a night like this, there's bound to be a few little brats sneaking out!"
"Meow~"
Mrs. Norris meowed toward the sky.
"It's no use. You can't catch a bird like that. Let's get back to work," Filch said.
Reluctantly, Mrs. Norris hopped off the windowsill. She glanced back at the sky one last time before trotting after her master.
The peregrine falcon, of course, was Wade.
Having grown accustomed to the sensation of wings instead of arms, Wade found the freedom of flight far more exhilarating than riding a broomstick.
What's more, with a bird's tiny brain, even though he still remembered who he was, his thoughts naturally simplified in his transformed state. At any given moment, his mind could only focus on a single thing.
When he was flying, all he thought about was flying. When he was hunting, he focused solely on hunting. And the joy of a successful hunt felt pure and unfiltered.
After returning to his human form, Wade always felt as though his thoughts had been cleansed, with the complexities and burdens of life suddenly feeling much lighter.
Suddenly, he heard the sound of air trembling. The peregrine falcon darted aside just as an owl swept past him with its broad wings beating with deep, powerful strokes.
The falcon banked gracefully into a curve, tucking its wings tightly as it dove toward the owl.
With wings drawn in, its body became like a fighter jet, accelerating to a speed almost imperceptible to the naked eye in mere moments!
In an instant, the owl felt a sharp, searing pain and let out a cry, convinced its neck had been sliced clean through!
The peregrine falcon shot past, leaving a few plucked feathers drifting lazily in the air.
As Wade soared by a window, he paused abruptly and tilted his head to peer inside.
There, Professor Abigail, clad in her pajamas, sat at her desk. She was methodically dismantling a black firearm, carefully cleaning its components before slowly reassembling it with precision.
Noticing a gaze upon her, Professor Abigail turned her head to see the peregrine falcon outside the window. She smiled faintly and casually grabbed a handful of jerky from the table, placing it on the windowsill.
"Here, have some," she said gently.
The falcon leaned down to pick up a piece, then spread its wings and flew away.
Meanwhile, the injured owl, still reeling from the pain as it circled the area in panic.
Upon realizing its head was still firmly attached to its neck, its anger and thirst for vengeance reignited. It returned to the Owlery, rallied ten or so companions, and led a furious charge toward the peregrine falcon.
A large flock of birds soon swirled above Hogwarts, their shrill cries cutting through the stillness of the night and making the castle unusually lively.
Students living in the tower were woken by the commotion. Peering out of their windows, they saw the vengeful owls and muttered in bewilderment, "Did they find a whole nest of rats? Why are they making such a ruckus?"
Dumbledore, in the midst of writing a letter, paused as he heard the cries. Setting down his quill, he turned to the window, just in time to meet the falcon's gaze.
The headmaster thought for a moment, then stood and opened the window. "Would you like to come in and rest for a while?" he asked.
The falcon reacted like most startled birds, spreading its wings with a quick "flutter" and darting away.
The owls instantly spotted their target and dove in from all directions, attempting to encircle it.
But the peregrine falcon was swift and nimble, weaving effortlessly among them and evading every attack with unmatched speed and agility. Within moments, it broke free of the ambush and disappeared into the night.
Seeing this, Dumbledore couldn't help but smile with delight.
"Young people certainly have energy…"
The headmaster murmured, and his tone was filled with the fond musings of the elderly. He shook his head and returned to his desk.
Looking again at the letter he had been writing, he suddenly found it uninspiring.
The previous day, Cornelius Fudge had sent him a letter, primarily to question the highly intense, militarized training recently conducted at Hogwarts. The minister had expressed suspicion about the intentions of the school's faculty, particularly Dumbledore himself.
In response, Dumbledore had drafted a lengthy reply, explaining that the activities in question were actually student-initiated games.
He highlighted how these activities helped the students develop resilience, character, and magical skills, ensuring they would graduate as more accomplished witches and wizards.
As an elder, Fudge should encourage such endeavors rather than shutting them down. Dumbledore had also emphasized Hogwarts' preparedness to ensure that students would not be seriously harmed during these exercises.
Finally, he had underlined the necessity of such training.
In recent years, results on OWLs and NEWTs had been declining. The complacency bred by peace had left students unmotivated to train, with many graduates incapable of casting even a basic Shield Charm.
This sort of activity, Dumbledore argued, was an excellent way to inspire them to learn.
At this moment, watching the peregrine falcon gracefully escape the pursuit of a flock of owls, its free and proud posture became etched in the old man's eyes.
Dumbledore sat at his desk for several minutes. Then, the letter he had written earlier floated into the air and was suddenly set ablaze, reduced to a pile of ash.
He picked up his quill again and began a new letter:
[ Thank you, Minister, for your concern for Hogwarts.
Although this is an internal matter of the school, we would greatly welcome guidance from the Ministry's elite.
Next month, we will be organizing another challenge event, and we sincerely invite you and some of the finest Aurors to participate.]
The emerald-green ink left just a few short lines on the parchment before he signed it. Once folded, the letter was sealed with wax.
Though new communication tools like Book of friends had become widely available, certain traditionalist wizards still preferred to use classic methods for non-urgent matters.
Take Fudge, for instance. He had a strong aversion to new inventions, finding them disorienting and unsettling. He clung stubbornly to his comfort zone, hoping the world would forever remain as familiar as it was.
Dumbledore was grateful he hadn't become that kind of rigid and antiquated person.
He sent off the letter.
The vengeful owls hovered in the sky for most of the night, tirelessly waiting for their nemesis to reappear. By dawn, however, they had given up and reluctantly returned to the Owlery empty-taloned.
At that moment, Wade, who had indulged in a rare long sleep, was just waking up.
Stretching lazily, he noticed the sleepy Eva wobbling back in through the window. He couldn't help but chuckle.
"What's made you so tired?" Wade caught his owl, and stroked her chilly back. "Did you stay out flying all night?"
"Coo-coo—"
Eva let out a pitiful little coo, and then gently nipped at Wade's hand with her beak before hurrying to her perch and eagerly eating her owl feed.
It seemed she hadn't just stayed awake all night but hadn't even had the chance to catch herself a mouse.
With a fond smile, Wade added an extra handful of feed to her dish, including a piece of jerky. While cooing softly, Eva seemed to complain about the peregrine falcon from the previous night as she devoured her meal.
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